John 14.23-29
+ “Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not let them be afraid.” Jesus says this to his disciples at a time when they would’ve been both troubled and afraid. The church is still in the season of Easter, but today’s gospel takes us back to the night before Jesus’ crucifixion. In the storyline of the gospel, the traumatic event of Jesus’ death is the day after this morning’s gospel reading. Many things are about to change. Everything the disciples have known with Jesus and about Jesus will come to an end. Suffering awaits Jesus; uncertainty, the disciples. What will the next day bring, the days after that, the future beyond? In our questions, doubts, and fears—present and future—Jesus’ words of comfort and reassurance are for us, too. “Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not let them be afraid. I give you my peace.”
This peace, peace from and in Jesus, is more than the absence of violence or threats; it is deeper than finding peace and quiet after a hectic day, important as that is. Jesus says his peace is different than the peace that the world gives. Now we know what peace is like for us and in our lives: provisional and precarious; it ebbs and flows; some days and times are better than others. The peace Jesus gives, however, endures through all circumstances, all our ups and the downs, so that even when things aren’t going well it is still possible to have an abiding sense of well-being.
St Paul, in his letter to the Philippians, calls this ‘peace beyond understanding.’ This is peace that settles in on you and settles you down. Fear and uncertainty give way to a sense of calm at the center of your life; you are well in the deepest sense even when things around you aren’t and when you can’t quite put your fingers on why you should feel that way.
Paul knew about that sort of transcendent peace in his life. He wrote his letter to the Philippians from prison. Now in the ancient world, prison conditions were awful, brutal, isolating, shameful. In his letter, Paul hints at the possibility that he might even die in prison. This sort of suffering and uncertainty could easily lead any of us to question God’s care for us. Yet in his troubles, Paul leans on the faithfulness of God and finds a deep sense of well-being, a peace his mind can barely grasp but that, at the core of his life, he knows is true—beyond understanding. Like Jesus today saying, “Do not let your hearts be troubled,” Paul says, “Have no anxiety about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God which passes all understanding will keep your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus.” There is peace in Christ for you.
But rather than relying on our own internal power, the peace that Jesus gives comes from outside of us as a gift; it is a strength and power greater than ourselves. This is, as Jesus says, peace that the world cannot give. Jesus doesn’t say, ‘Find peace within yourself,’ but “My peace I give you.” Because peace in the world, like peace is our lives, it is often shallow and fragile. And especially among the nations of the world, it is maintained by threat and force. Now at a certain level that’s necessary. St John Chrysostom, an early Christian theologian, said every emperor, king, and prince must have soldiers to keep his realm from attack and to keep peace within the nation. But that peace is provisional as every war has ever shown; this Memorial Day weekend reminds us of that. The ‘War to End All Wars’ did no such thing and never will. Strange, isn’t it, how such great that power is still so very fragile.
The attempt at peace by threat and force happens in family life, too, when parents threaten kids, or spouses one another, by saying something like, ‘You step out of line and you’re in trouble.’ Does this happen with friends, too? Only that’s not peace at all; that’s silence created by fear, the need to shame someone and shout them down in order to come out on top. And it is all so terribly so toxic.
In contrast, the peace that Jesus gives is neither fragile nor fear-producing. Jesus gives peace by supplying the means of peace: the Holy Spirit, his grace for us, his promise to be with us in all things, and his love for us. His heart of love for the world and the people in it is the heart we are meant to share. “Those who love me will keep my word.” That word is his command to love one another. In Jesus, we are people of peace.
“Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not let them be afraid.” The biblical word for peace is multi-layered and many-sided, like the facets of a jewel or gem. Behind our English word ‘peace,’ the word in the original language of the Old Testament is the familiar word ‘shalom.’ Like the Hawaiian word ‘aloha,’ shalom can mean both ‘hello’ and ‘goodbye.’ But it’s more than a daily greeting. It’s wellness, wholeness, restoration, and goodness.
Psalm 85 has a vision of all of creation permeated with God’s shalom. “Mercy and faithfulness have met together; righteousness and peace have kissed each other.” Here is peace as an enduring intimacy with God for the whole world. Psalm 131 has a sense of this peace in our personal life. “Truly I have set my soul in silence and peace. Like a child on its mother’s breast, even so is my soul at rest.” What a beautiful picture of peace as the calm assurance that we are held secure in God. Another psalm prays, “My soul is weary, strengthen me according to your word.” This sense of well-being comes from the changelessness of God through all the changes and chances of life. Our mind might barely be able to grasp this sense of peace. It may surpass human knowing. Yet it us true in the deepest sense. This is Jesus’ gift for us, the peace he gives, the peace he is. The letter of Ephesians says this peace is less of a thing but actually a person. “Christ is our peace.”
And when Jesus says, “Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not let them be afraid,” don’t hear those words as the expectation that you have to keep a calm exterior in the face of heartache and trouble—the proverbial stiff upper lip. After all, the Gospel of John tells us that when Jesus’ friend Lazarus died, Jesus was troubled; and he wept. When Jesus realized the hour of his death was near, he was troubled; and he prayed. When Jesus learned of Judas’ plans to betray him, he was troubled; yet he trusted God.
In all those things—death of a friend, betrayal by a friend, his own death on the cross—Jesus carried with him all troubles of the world, shared in the troubles of our lives. Yet through Christ and by his death and resurrection, wellness, wholeness, restoration, and goodness are given to you. In your troubles, you can weep like Jesus did; in your troubles you can pray; in your troubles you can be assured that God will not leave you or forsake you. Jesus’ peace is his gift to you when everything you’ve depended on changes, like it is about to be for the disciples in today’s gospel. Jesus’ peace is his gift to you when you’re not sure what the future will bring. Christ is our peace: not as the world gives, a gift that surpasses our understanding.
Today in the gospel on the night before Jesus dies, our Lord offers his disciples, and us, the assurance that he will not leave us alone but will send the Advocate, the Holy Spirit, God’s very own power and life to come alongside us. The Spirit will bring to mind what Jesus has done for us and who he is for us, the peace he gives and the peace he is. The Spirit that made Jesus alive in the womb of Mary, made Jesus fully alive to his vocation at his baptism, made Jesus alive out of death after his crucifixion, is the same Spirit that makes Jesus alive in you. Through God the Father and God the Son making a home with us, in the gift of God the Spirit, we receive peace the world cannot give, a peace beyond understanding, a peace that is enduring and permanent and true. Christ is our peace. “Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not let them be afraid. I give you my peace.” +
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